


"Spirit of Las Vegas? STFU!"

by mercurybard



Series: Hellboy AU [1]
Category: Bandom, Hellboy - All Media Types, The Cab
Genre: Community: we_are_cities, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11507052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurybard/pseuds/mercurybard
Summary: Cash never asked for super powers





	"Spirit of Las Vegas? STFU!"

His head hurt. No, that was an understatement—his head throbbed. It felt like Johnson had crawled inside his skull and started sound-checking. With a groan, Cash flopped down in one of the deck chairs, the motion alone enough to make him feel like his braincase was going to split wide open.

This time of the afternoon, the hotel’s indoor pool should’ve been filled with fat, shrieking children. Thank god, it wasn’t. Probably something to do with the ‘Closed’ sign on the door. Most places would’ve lied and said they were shocking the pool or something, but this was Vegas. Such niceties weren’t necessary thanks to a city-wide understanding that certain people were Special and deserved the VIP treatment. Money talked here in Vegas. Celebrity too. He could live with that.

The woman who they’d closed the room for touched the far end of the Olympic-sized swimming pool and executed a flip that turned her back in Cash’s direction. Her passage through the water was unnaturally smooth, each stroke hardly causing a ripple in the chlorinated blue. 

She hadn’t come up for air once since he’d come through the door.

She reached the side of the pool nearest him and surfaced, water streaming out of her dark hair. “Cash Colligan.”

“Kate Embry,” he greeted her in return.

“You look hungover.” Bracing her hands on the concrete deck, she boosted herself out of the pool. 

Cash glared at her for a second, then realized that glaring was making his head hurt even more and stopped. Instead, he reached down and unhooked the douche-y white sunglasses he’d found at a truck stop free from where he had them hooked over the collar of his t-shirt. “Way to state the obvious, jackass.”

Kate just snorted, bending down to towel off her legs. Her bathing suit was weirdly modest for Las Vegas—tank top and boy-shorts—but then again, she rarely wore other clothes unless someone made her. Nice legs, even if she wasn’t his type. “Quit staring at my boobs, Colligan.” 

“Quit flashing them in my direction, Embry.” The sunglasses cut down on the glare from the skylights overhead, and he sank down deeper into the deck chair in relief. He’d gotten stupid-drunk—blackout drunk—the night before. Not the brightest idea he’d had all week, but then again, agreeing to help with this secret government agency crap wasn’t up there either. “Can you actually breathe water? I mean, do you have gills and shit under that suit?”

She flopped down beside him, the soggy towel dropping to the deck at her feet. “No gills—one of the other guys at the B.P.R.D. has them, but he can’t live outside of water for very long. Well, he’s got this reverse aqua-lung thing, but he claims it isn’t very comfortable.” She slouched down in her chair until their heads were on-level; her long, skinny legs extending past his. “Not the best agent to send out into the middle of the desert.”

“Damn. Gills would be sick.”

Kate shrugged. “Next time you’re in Connecticut, come by the Bureau and I’ll introduce you to Abe.”

“You’re fucking serious about this Bureau shit, aren’t you?”

“You’ve met Red, haven’t you?”

She had a point—hard to dismiss any of this with Hellboy hanging around. The dude was six and a half feet tall, bright red, and had horns for fuck’s sake.


End file.
